


If We Could Revisit Yesterday

by zemira



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Drama, Future Fic, M/M, Mostly in Akashi's POV, Rebuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zemira/pseuds/zemira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After blissfully dating for several years, a recurrent issue splits Seijuro and Kouki apart. Not long after, Akashi realizes he’s made a horrible error in letting him go, but fate seems to have another notion in mind. With an unexpected impasse standing between them reuniting, his quest to regain the one he loves will be one of the most difficult challenges he’s ever faced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **02-01-18:** After four years, this fic has been removed from hiatus. Whether you are returning to it from years back, or just starting, read the note at the top of chapter three/ the newest chapter.

Furihata Kouki winced as the morning sun imposed upon his shuttered eyes. He groaned softly, twisting around until he had sheltered himself into a pair of muscular arms, his face nudging into the cozy material of the ebony nightshirt. In response, he was caged in a warm embrace, his head snuggling deeper into the other’s chest to escape the perpetual rays. A moment or two after, the redhead he had wormed his way toward slowly unveiled his vision. Akashi Seijuro yawned and glanced down at the bundle lodged against his chest before blearily peering at the clock above. The result was enough to tempt him back into hibernation, but he knew there was a sparse chance of that happening. He moved slightly, nudging the slumbering form carefully out of his arms before sluggishly rising from the sheets.

Whining at the loss of warmth, Kouki protested by latching onto the other’s waist before he was able to slip from his grasp. Seijuro chuckled lightly, bestowing him with a kiss to the forehead before unraveling his arms from around him. He knew he shouldn’t have continued to let Kouki sleep, but he figured a few extra moments wouldn’t be an issue. Besides, Kouki was usually decent about forcing himself out of bed in the morning.

Sometimes.

Once Seijuro had disappeared into the kitchen, Kouki resumed snuggling into the blankets. He sighed pleasantly, pressing his face into his lover’s pillow and inhaling his crisp scent. The thought of abandoning the security of his bed only made him more unenthusiastic. Even at twenty years old, he remained childish at heart. At times, he didn’t want to “grow up,” especially if it meant he had to tumble out of Seijuro’s warmth on most early mornings and drag himself out the door.

By some miracle, they’d weathered four years together, and their relationship had reached a point where Kouki couldn’t envision a future without seeing Seijuro as a part of that image. Honestly, there were some rough patches, and they had a few recurring issues, but nothing that was a complete obstacle. Whatever storms arose, they always came out the other side more determined than before in their commitment. As soon as they had graduated, they moved into together and further sealed their bond; Kouki was thankful that Seijuro had asked. It meant that he wasn’t the only one craving to devote every last free moment to spending it with the one he loved.

His musings were disturbed by a weight upon his shoulder.

“Kouki,” the suave yet tender voice of Seijuro brushed his ear, “You need to get up now.”

Reviving his juvenile performance, Kouki swatted at him playfully. He wiggled slightly, sliding down the pillow until he was cocooned in the blankets. Seijuro freed an exasperated sigh, flicking the top of the messy strands that stuck out, and began a tug of war with the blankets.

“Kouki, you have to. Fukuda-kun is going to be here soon. It’s your last week of class.”

He stared at the unmoving lump, realizing he wasn’t obtaining the response he asked for.

“If that is what you wish.”

A bit puzzled by this, Kouki yelped when he felt himself ascending, still wrapped in the security of the blankets. His head poked out as he began to move, locked tightly in Seijuro's arms, and trekking toward an unknown location. Hazel eyes broadened when he realized where exactly they were heading, and he began to fruitlessly squirm.

“Sei, no! I’m up, I’m up!” 

But said lover only ignored him, carefully depositing him in the tub, quilts and all. Kouki screeched seconds after when a blast of icy water assaulted him, the frozen liquid destroying any remaining warmth he had absorbed. He sputtered as the stream tickled his nose and splattered on his trembling lips.

“I’m awake, Sei! I’m awake!”

At that proclamation, the stream ceased. Kouki opened his eyes, tiny droplets still hanging from his now soaked tresses. He stared daggers up at Seijuro, who only graced him with his usual grin before kneeling down beside him. Almost instantly, Kouki’s anger was forgotten as he stared into the gleaming, heterochromatic orbs. 

“Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all,” Seijuro rumbled.

One hand rose to cup his chin, anchoring it in place. 

“Now it will be my fault you are late,” he added huskily, drawing even closer.

Before Kouki could fully process the meaning, Seijuro’s lips were melded to his, having no mercy in how they stoked the fire within him. Though his skin was chilled from the unexpected bath, the insides of his lover’s mouth were comfortably warm, and his tongue relentless in mapping every surface of his own. He moaned softly, eyes sliding closed as he allowed Seijuro to indulge and explore. Their teeth collided, tongues immersed in a fervent duel, but as always, Seijuro’s easily conquered him. His fingers combed through the crimson mane, digging into the now damp strands before latching onto them. Using his gained leverage, Kouki tumbled backwards, his partner falling shortly behind and landing on top of him. 

Sliding his fingers through Seijuro's hair, Kouki brushed over the shell of his ear before pausing against the base of his collar. He tried not to smile into their prolonged kiss when the other tensed above him, but the reaction only provoked him further. With a sluggish pace, he grazed the moist skin, gliding forward until he pressed into a center spot. Seijuro froze all together, snapping their connection and quickly trapping his hands behind him.

“If you do that,” he rasped, “there’s absolutely no chance you’ll be leaving.”

A warning had never sounded as insignificant as that one did in the moment. Choosing to surrender to his desires, Kouki bent forward, pushing his mouth against the other’s with flourish. Time was trivial; when he felt like this, it was hard to let reality be his guide. Gradually, Seijuro fulfilled his wishes, caressing their tongues together and beginning to coast his hips downward, pressuring his own stirring region. The grip locking his hands soon also fell away, permitting Kouki to roost both palms against his shoulders for support. Their rhythm had his pulse skyrocketing, and illogically he felt he’d somehow slip if he didn’t hold on closely.

And then, the most grueling sound echoed throughout the apartment.

The frenzy they were immersed in was broken, their eyes snapping open. Seijuro peered down at his panting lover with sheer regret, and then toward the living room where the bell had sounded from. He sighed, realizing once again they had allowed their fervor to ensnare them, and time had been the victor of them both. Carefully moving from his position, he cringed as he remarked a rather difficult issue. Similar to one Kouki was suffering from as well. 

He then spared Kouki a wry smile before reaching once more for the knob above.

Kouki sputtered loudly as the frigid water encased them, their heated session completely dissolved. Soon it ceased, and then Seijuro was up and handing him a towel, pushing him in the direction of their bedroom before he disappeared into the den.

The door opened to reveal a bewildered Fukuda Hiroshi leaning against the outer wall. Though he was never too fond of the idea of people in the apartment when Kouki wasn’t decent, Seijuro nodded in acknowledgment to the guest and moved aside, inviting them in.

“Kouki should be ready shortly. He was a bit difficult to wake this morning.”

Fukuda gratefully seated himself on one of the couches in the den. He stifled the urge to flush at the appearance of the former captain, well aware he most likely interrupted something very personal. Akashi’s usually neatly styled mane was thoroughly ruffled, droplets of water dangling from the ends, and his lips were bruised and reddened.

Wringing the remaining droplets from his hair, Kouki tried to ease his trembling long enough to properly clothe himself. Stupid Akashi. His latest method when he refused to awake was preposterous, and always led to the same raunchy situation. Though, he was all but convinced that was Seijuro’s intention, whether he denied so or not. He couldn’t have been more grateful at the moment that his friend was debriefed about their relationship. It was never Kouki’s intention to reveal such a private fact, but when Fukuda started to question why he would live with Akashi Seijuro of all people, he knew he had met a dead end. What other excuse was there to answer against that but the truth?

A sudden thought froze his troubled musings. Seijuro barely had any time to compose himself after their unfinished union, and he had gone to answer the door in that shape...

“Kouki, if you continue to daydream, you truly will be late.”

He turned around to encounter Seijuro waiting in the doorway, arms laced over his bedraggled nightshirt. Kouki’s gaze shifted to his inflamed lips, eyes widening at the faint marks embedded in the flesh of his lowered one. Was that truly his handiwork? Geez, he was becoming more aggressive as the years went on! Trying not to flush at his lover's amorously disheveled state, he focused on his previous irritation.

“I’m already running behind because of you.” He scowled. “Why do you have to do this every morning?”

“Is it my fault you don’t wake up when you’re asked to?”

Kouki fumed, his annoyed features quickly morphing into confusion when Seijuro stepped fully into the room. He tailed him to ones of the dressers where the other began to disrobe himself, causing his cheeks to somehow produce a darker tinge of scarlet. If he continued to stare at the portrait before him, he was surely going to be tardy. Clearing his throat, Kouki decided to change topic so as to take his mind off the image just to the side to him.

"Er, do you have class today, Sei?”

Seijuro continued to wring the water out of his hair. “No, I have a great deal of work to do, though.”

“Oh, are you going to either office today?”

He shook his head. “I have all I need for the week here. It’s mostly pointless paper work.”

Kouki zipped his bag. “That’s great! Then, I’ll see you after class.”

He rose from his hunched position, only to be halted by a hand upon his wrist. Brows knitted, Kouki glanced up to see his lover now clothed in his usual lounge attire, concern within those mismatched depths.

“It’s a bit cold this morning from the rain last night, Kouki. I would prefer if you took a light jacket.” 

Kouki nodded, shuffling through the closet and his clutter that he had yet to unpack. Becoming lost within the mounds, he pushed aside various clothing and items, searching frantically for his old basketball jacket. After a few moments, he frowned at what he uncovered. 

“Ah, I can’t find my Seirin jacket. I could have sworn I packed it, but it might still be back at my parent’s house.”

Seijuro didn’t seem perturbed by his dilemma. “Take the one that’s hanging behind the door, then.”

Expecting to uncover a spare jacket of his that he may have overlooked, Kouki glanced skyward. His eyes magnified, cheeks once more a dusty rose.

“I can’t wear that! People know I went to Seirin High!”

“Correction,” he interjected smoothly, “Two people know you went there. One is currently out in the living room, and the other….”

Kouki tried not to cringe at the low tone. Kawahara. Though he had always been one of his close friends throughout high school, Kawahara had recently gained a bit of an attachment to him. One which Seijuro was anything but fond of. Despite Kouki trying to reassure his lover there was absolutely nothing inappropriate between them, it didn’t soothe Seijuro any to know Kawahara possessed an infatuation toward him. This type of behavior wasn't unusual. It was difficult, at times, for Seijuro to curb his emotions, had been that way since he and Kouki met. Truthfully, though, Kouki couldn't deny that if one of Seijuro's friends acted coquettish toward him, he would probably respond the exact same.

“Sei,” he spoke softly, hoping it would somehow ease his irked lover, “I really need to leave.”

He glanced over at his static lover, frowning at the solemn expression. Kouki peered up, slowly freeing the Rakuzan jacket from its hook before sliding the nostalgic article on. He smiled warmly, realizing the material still contained a bit of Seijuro’s scent, even if he himself hadn’t worn it in quite a while. Although he was a bit wary about venturing out into the public, he hoped wearing it would cheer up the former captain. There was no shame in their relationship, and Kouki was more than willing to admit Akashi Seijuro was his lover... but they were still trying to conceal it from most eyes. For the time being. 

“Sei,” he spoke a bit louder, wanting to gain the other’s attention, “I need to go now.”

“I heard you the first—”

Seijuro froze in awe, his widened, mismatched eyes centered on the alluring vision before him. His old jacket being worn by Kouki. His jacket, and to know he would be observed by the town residents, including Kawahara, only escalated his merit. Heart drumming wildly, he could feel the warmth, the adoration encasing him. All irritation receded as he stepped forward to gather Kouki in his arms. 

Cheeks tinged, Kouki lowered his head onto one of his shoulders, hoping it was enough to conceal his reddened complexion.

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, Kouki,” Seijuro whispered. “I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t,” he muttered into the fabric, “I really… like it.” 

He rose from his place of refuge behind Seijuro's tresses to chance a glance at him. What he uncovered was enough to escalate his pulse. The smile Seijuro wore was striking, the corners of his lips cambering up to form a benevolent grin.

“That pleases my heart greatly.” 

Without a hint of mischief, he touched his mouth briefly to Kouki’s before backing away. Staring into each other’s eyes, the pull between them was magnetic, urging him to place one more kiss on Kouki's waiting lips. With that much though, they both knew they couldn’t continue. Somewhat unsatisfied, Seijuro drew back, leaving a lingering sensation in his wake.

"Have a good day.”

It was moments after that he stumbled into the living room where his friend awaited. Kouki offered him a sheepish smile as he tossed in a few books he had lying out on the table into his bag.

“Sorry I’m so late today!” He hoped his pitch wasn’t too falsely high. “I was up late watching some movie.”

Fukuda only laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s the last week, so I don’t think we’ll be doing too much. I hope it goes quick today.”

Gathering the key to their apartment, he tossed it into his pocket. Kouki pulled open the door, allowing Fukuda to enter the quiet hallway first.

“Yeah…” He turned around to peer at Seijuro one last time before stepping through. “I hope it goes quick today, too.”

* * *

After the clamor from the beginning of the morning, Kouki was relieved when their drive to school was relatively uneventful. Taking the route they favored most days, Fukuda and he chatted about what they were hoping to do over their upcoming break. His friend talked about endless days at the arcade and burger shops, choosing to spend his free periods as laid back as possible. Kouki, on the other hand, wouldn't be free from the workload entirely. He was taking a side class that wasn't within the university. A class that he was hoping would boost his chance in something he was striving to achieve. Though, at the moment, only Akashi knew what that was for. 

As the two walked through the university’s gates, they were interrupted by the shout of their names.

“Oiii! Fukuda! Furihata!”

They turned around as Kawahara rushed up to them. His attention was quickly on Kouki, his gaze narrowly surveying the basketball jacket secured around his shoulders.

“If I didn’t recognize the back of Fukuda, I wouldn’t have realized it was you, Furi. I thought someone from Rakuzan started going here.”

Kouki’s lips twitched upward, a nervous laugh filtering through.

“Did Akashi make you wear this?”

The smile he wore drifted, altering into a light scowl. He should have fully expected the sudden question, yet it still was enough to rile him slightly.

“No, he didn’t. I couldn’t find my Seirin jacket this morning, so he gave me his.”

Fukuda shook his head at the interrogator, signaling him to shut his trap. Their friend shrugged, but not before bestowing one last disgusted glance at the former captain’s jacket.

“So,” Fukuda interjected swiftly, “It seems there’s not as many people today. Do you know what’s goin’ on, Kawahara?”

“There’s no class this week,” was the simple response. “It’s only here if you need to turn a paper in or want to stay for an extra review for finals next week.” 

Kouki tried not to groan. “Then, I got up for no reason?” he whined, “I could have stayed asleep! I’m so tired.”

He could have stayed encased in Akashi’s warmth a bit longer.

“You wanna go to the arcade for a bit then?” Kawahara asked, “Unless you two are gonna stay for the review.”

“Already did on Friday,” Fukuda replied, “Sounds like a good idea. What do you say, Furi?”

Kouki wavered internally. Perhaps he could wait a bit longer to return to Seijuro and hang out with his friends. As long as Kawahara didn’t pester him about anything to do with Akashi, then there should be no issue in doing so. Besides, he was truly famished.

“Ah, yeah. Sounds good to me, but first I want to grab something to eat. I think I used up most of my energy this morning in trying to get out of bed.”

Among other diversions.

Kawahara grinned. “You’re in luck then, Furi. I know the perfect place to go.”

* * *

Akashi settled into the succor of his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, disturbing the lenses that perched atop it. He had already wrestled through all the paper work he needed to, but the level of the documents was frankly, astonishing. Of the legions of underlings who worked for him, most were anything but diligent. There was some sort of error every time he glanced down at one of the proposals.

“I should eliminate them all,” he muttered darkly.

Why had he agreed to this in the first place? It wasn’t as though he’d had any other options, as his father had decreed his life’s direction for him the second he entered high school. He was lucky he was able to experience his last year there, as he was already being forced to learn the mechanics of their company. The instant he graduated, the classes he was to take in university were swiftly outlined and an internship of sorts was cobbled together to devour the remainder of his free time. On the other hand, the second company he worked for, was of his own accord. The one he was hoping would be the one he'd stay with for how long he remained in Japan, the one he favored over his father's. For more than one reason. 

He had been so immersed in his vexation, that he didn’t hear the door slam closed. Close behind the unexpected interruption though, an enrapturing sound echoed through the complex.

“I’m home!”

Although he was absolutely elated Kouki had returned, a quick survey at the clock only perplexed him. Twisting around in his chair, Seijuro awaited the presence of the other stumbling throughout the den.  
  
Kouki tried not to flush at the tableau laid out before him. Despite encountering his lover in this guise countless of times, there was always something about Seijuro in glasses that caught him off guard. No matter how hard he resisted, a spark of interest lingered.

“Welcome home.” He grinned warmly at the reddened display. “You’re quite early today, aren’t you?”  
  
The tint of his cheeks only enhanced when Seijuro held out his arms. A bit reluctant at first, Kouki then ambled forward, perching himself on his lover’s lap, and allowing Seijuro to encase him in a tender embrace.  
  
“We didn’t have class today,” he mumbled, trying not to meet the curious gaze above. “So we ended up going to the arcade for a bit instead.”

He hoped Seijuro wouldn’t inquire as to who he had gone with. Speaking of anything to do with Kawahara was forbidden lately, and Kouki wasn’t about to incite another pointless debate.

To his relief, Akashi’s grin only seemed to broaden.

“A shame,” he chuckled, “You shouldn’t have had to endure all you did this morning, then.”

“Knowing you,” Kouki murmured petulantly, “it would have happened anyway….”

He tried to ignore the devilish grin or the way those heterochromatic eyes gleamed behind the lenses. Instead Kouki repositioned himself, focusing on the computer screen behind them. His pulse escalated when a hand drifted to his hip, slowly caressing from the bone up toward his stomach.

“Er, d-did you do everything you needed to do today?” he nearly squeaked, a premonition dawning on him due to the covert touches.

“No.” The husky tone was enough to elevate the hairs on the back of his neck. “I haven’t done  _everything_.”

Seijuro's response completely soared over his head. “Oh, do you have more work to still do? I won’t bother you then.”

He squeaked when Seijuro’s lips grazed the tip of his ear, the torridness of his breath eliciting a shiver.

“I wasn’t speaking of that kind of work, Kouki.” His tongue poked out to nudge against the flushed skin. “I do believe we have some unfinished work ourselves. From this morning.”

“Ah, uhm….” He tried to think of any reason to prevent that. “I really want to go relax. I’m still… tired from being woken up so early today.…”

He was punished by a light nip to his ear.

“You should have thought about that before you sat in my lap.” Seijuro’s fingers skimmed the material hanging around his shoulders. “Still wearing my jacket.”

Kouki shivered when his lover’s deft lips shifted from attacking his ear, deciding on busying themselves with the softer part of his neck. He stifled a cry, pushing forward to grip onto the chair in hopes of an escape, though he knew it was pointless. Even if he knew this was what he desired, had since he left that morning. The hand that had lingered on his hip now slipped under his shirt, grazing the canvas of milky white skin before gliding upward.

“Sei,” he faintly protested, “We shouldn't...”

His inner desire mocked his weakening struggle.

Resistance was futile when Seijuro was in this type of mood. Kouki wanted to scoff at the thought. When  _wasn’t_ he in this type of mood? But ever so slowly, he allowed his defense to lower and succumbed to the gentle caresses. What was the purpose in fighting anymore? Especially if he himself knew he yearned for it as much as the other did.

Urgent kisses were plied to the crook of his neck, their fervor increasing steadily as Seijuro worked upward. He made a trek toward Kouki’s jawline, lips leaving a trail of sensation in their wake. Melting into the mood, Kouki's pulse began to thrum faster, jolting when their noses bumped together and his lover’s mouth crashed fully against his own. Discarding any final thought of retreating, he eagerly returned the kiss, placing one hand behind Seijuro's head to seal their lips together.

A fleeting thought engrossed him as Seijuro whisked him from his perch, heading toward their bedroom. He truly was lucky to have found someone he could be this way with; before they’d gotten together, Kouki could have scarcely imagined being this happy, feeling this secure in someone else’s arms. Whatever trials might befall them, he felt assured that they'd weather the storm together.

And in the end, that was all that truly mattered.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The glaring sunlight caused him to cringe. After being encased in a room all hours of the morning, Kouki should have welcomed it, but he was far too exhausted mentally to even care. His brain was fried, filled with the chaos of numbers and words he still didn’t understand running throughout it. Just remembering some of the questions on the tests, was enough to make his head spin. With barely any confidence that he knew what he was doing, he’d just wrote the best he could manage, hoping that something within him would produce the correct responses.

It was truly a pathetic way of looking at everything.  
  
“Furi!” Fukuda jogged forward. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed he was behind him. “How were your last few tests?”  
  
Kouki only granted him a blank expression.  
  
"That bad, huh?" Fukuda peered ahead into the distance. "Ah, here comes Kawahara. Looks like he finished early, too.”  
  
Within moments, Kawahara had joined them on the path, having bolted out of his own latest exam with the speed of someone who’d been longing for freedom.  
  
"You all right, Furi? You look like you're ready to fall over."  
  
Kouki frowned. "I'm fine, but that last exam took a lot out of me. I don't even remember seeing half of that on my study guide...."  
  
One after the other, the trio shared their own harrowing tales. Each hoping to the heavens above that they’d floundered enough to receive a passing grade. All that was left was to wait and see, and now that they had time off, all were of a mind to drown their worries with something entertaining. Kawahara suggested going into town to see a movie, and perhaps play a quick game at one of the outdoor courts following that.  
  
At this moment, Kouki would go along with anything that would take his mind off the previous plight.  
  
"Okay," he sighed, "but let me borrow your phone. I need to make a quick call." 

 

* * *

It was strangely quiet. That was the first thing Seijuro noticed when he set his pen down and took a thorough survey of his surroundings. Compared to the constant clamor earlier in the day, it was a welcome, if bizarre change. Thanks to whatever graces had granted him this placid atmosphere, he’d been able to speed through several large packets of paperwork. Now he hardly had any left to do. That didn’t mean there weren’t other tasks to be completed, but it did take a bite out of his overall workload that was much appreciated.

The employees working today must have noticed his foul mood bubbling over and chose to be on their best behavior for the remainder of the day. That was the only reason he could come up with as to why they weren’t bothering him currently.

An irritating buzz then resounded through his eardrum, his secretary’s timorous tone following behind. So much for the peace he had obtained.  
  
“What?” he hissed, “What is it now?”  
  
The hesitance in her voice was more than evident. “I’m sorry, Akashi-sama, but you have another call.”

He tried not to snap the pen in half. How many more imbeciles were going to bother him today?

“This is Akashi Seijuro. What is the nature of your business?”

There was a long pause.

“Er, Sei? Are you having a bad day?”

His mood instantly shifted. “Kouki! Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all day, but you left your phone on the table.”

“I just got out of my last final.” His tone seemed reluctant as he replied, as if the subject wasn’t one he particularly cared to address. “Like five minutes ago.”

Akashi leaned back in his chair. “Oh? How were they?”

There was silence for a moment, as though Kouki was formulating an answer.

“They were okay.”

But Akashi knew him far too well.

“Kouki.”

“They really sucked!” he sighed miserably, “The last one was the worst! Happy now?”

He tried not to laugh. It wasn’t something he should make light of, but the woeful tone his lover used was hopelessly endearing.

“I’m sure you did fine. You stayed up late last night for extra studying. Something will have stuck from that session.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” His tone shifted to a much more even one. “Anyway, I know you have to work late tonight, so I was thinking of going out for a bit … mostly to get my mind off those stupid tests.”

A knock caused him to avert his glance, attention shifting from the conversation to the sudden disturbance. He internally groaned, granting whomever it was permission to enter. In shuffled his secretary, clasping in her hand another list of issues he most likely had to deal with personally.

“Sei?”

“That’s fine, Kouki.” He tried not to glare up at the terrified woman. “I wouldn’t want you to be stuck at home.”

As much as he desired to end the call by provoking a blush out of his lover with a few deviously-chosen words, the woman before him refused to leave. Seijuro grimaced, concluding their conversation with a cursory farewell and a promise to see each other later on before returning the phone to its cradle.

Once his solitude was back in place, and the roster of work had been laid out, a sudden thought nudged at him. How could he have forgotten to tell Kouki that? Quickly he grabbed for the phone, ruing that Kouki's mobile was resting uselessly at home, and dialed Fukuda's number.

Fukuda seemed caught unaware by his sudden call, judging by the surprise in his greeting.

“Akashi-san? What can I do for you?”  
  
“Good afternoon, Fukuda-kun. May I speak to Kouki again? I forgot I needed to inform him on something that slipped my mind.”  
  
He only seemed more bewildered.  
  
“Furi?” he asked, “He’s not with me. He’s with Kawahara. They were heading—”  
  
_Click._

Akashi gaped down at the phone in stark silence, the rhythm of his breathing suddenly erratic. His hands trembled, the document in them slowly swishing to the floor. How? How could Kouki hide that crucial detail from him when he called to tell him he had plans for the evening? It wasn’t as if he’d tried to hide how uneasy his lover being alone with that particular friend caused him to be. 

Kouki understood that as clearly as he understood that his friend harbored special feelings for him. Because he was good-hearted, he was trying to balance their relationship well, to maintain their bond despite what difficulties it naturally posed. Seijuro couldn’t begrudge him that, but it was a fragile balance. Though he trusted Kouki completely, there was no telling what Kawahara might feel obliged to do to tip the scales in his favor. Even if it wasn’t ethical. That was chiefly why he worried, and it was assuredly why he found his heart pounding so rapidly now.  
  
Until his lover returned home safely, he’d have no peace.

Consequences forgotten, he shoved aside all the documents on his desk. Trying to calm his heavy breathing, Seijuro yanked open the door, startling his already anxious secretary and trudging through the hallway. The staff froze in their tasks, trying not to cower when he passed by them. A menacing aura surrounded the former captain, casting an even more frightening sense about him than the usual. 

Until he had the assurance of his lover in his arms, unlucky thoughts would wreak havoc on his troubled mind. All he could hope was that he wouldn't have to wait in limbo too long. Feeling this way wasn't something he relished.

The last matter he needed now was to be surrounded by stimuli that would further test his patience. 

* * *

 

A little after six in the evening, Kouki returned home to the complex. It was his supposition that Seijuro was still at work, and he planned on using the hours until then to whip up a large dinner; something he hadn't had the energy to do for a while thanks to school. His hand poised to jiggle the key in the lock, but he was startled when the door swung open before his eyes.

Panic immediately took root.

Rushing into the complex, Kouki flicked on the lights, unsure of who or what he would come across. So when his eyes fixed on the sofa to where a familiar silhouette was, arms crossed, and staring at him with a conflicted gaze, it was a bit of a relief. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel completely unsettled.

“Ah, Sei!” he chuckled nervously, “You nearly scared me. How come you’re home so early?”

His lover remained silent, keeping the same gaze trained on him.

At the lack of a verbal response, Kouki's suspicions only multiplied. Why was Seijuro looking at him like that? Why was he home so early to begin with, and even still in his suit? He had no idea about either question, and the way he was being stared at seemed to suggest he should know. Well, there was only one way to find out - to ask and hope he'd be able to resolve the tension with words.

But then, he finally spoke.

“Kouki.” His tone was deadly calm, too calm for his liking. “Where exactly did you go after you called me this afternoon?”

His heart leapt to his throat. “I told you. I was going out after finals because you weren’t going to be home until later.”

“I’m aware of that.” His tone didn’t alter. “My question to you is, with whom.”

“… I was with Fukuda and … Kawahara, but then Fukuda had to leave unexpectedly, and it was just Kawahara and I.” His pulse only quickened. “I-I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, if that’s what you’re thinking!”

Actually, the better question was, how the hell did Akashi even know?

“So you went somewhere alone with him?” His eyes narrowed. “Why would you put yourself in that sort of situation? Easily, something could have happened to you, Kouki.”

Seijuro’s impassioned statements sunk into him, churning up the warring feelings of remorse and irritation that he felt. The former for making the one who cared about him the most so frantic, the latter because despite that, he didn’t feel he’d done anything wrong. His choices were his own, and he couldn’t very well never be alone with one of his friends ever again. That would be ludicrous. At the same time, he couldn’t blame his lover. His friend did come on a bit strong sometimes, and as of late, it was beginning to make him feel a bit uncomfortable.

But he’d never speak of that to Akashi.  
  
“How? How did you even know… about all that? That isn’t why you came home early, is it?” he tacked on anxiously, practically foreseeing the other’s response even as he spoke the words.  
  
The fury didn’t diminish from his lover’s visage. If fact, he only seemed to laugh, but it wasn’t born from joy.  
  
“How did I know?” he chuckled, recalling his prior frenzy, “I forgot I needed to tell you something after we hung up, and since you didn’t have your phone, I called Fukuda. Seeing how I thought you were with him, that was my best chance to reach you.”  
  
A tremor ran up Kouki’s spine. He could easily surmise the conclusion to Akashi’s tale.  
  
“So when he informed me he wasn’t with you, and you were with Kawahara….”  
  
“You became upset,” he muttered quiescently.  
  
He lowered his head, trying not to imagine what Seijuro must have endured when he learned the truth. Consumed by remorse, he didn’t acknowledge the footsteps approaching his direction until his head was raised by gentle fingertips.  
  
“I’m not angry with you, Kouki. You should be able to be out with your friends, but he worries me. He —”  
  
The abrupt response of Kouki placing a light kiss on his lips was one Seijuro hadn’t expected.  
  
“You don’t need to be worried about anyone.” He could feel the heat generating in his cheeks, but the desire to make his thoughts clear won out over his timidity. “I love you, Sei, and only you.”

Akashi viewed him, practically in disbelief, which only enhanced Kouki’s jittery state. Why had he made such a bold move? He'd wanted to assure his lover there was no challenge, but he had completely humiliated himself in the process. Feeling foolish, he inched a step back, hoping that would break the awkward gaze, but an arm shot out to reel him right in.

“I know I don’t need to worry about you, Kouki,” the other murmured, voice gone husky, to Kouki’s bewilderment.

A fire gleamed in those eyes, and he instantly wondered if he’d made a false step in going so far to reassure him. It might have provoked more of a response than he expected.

Before he could consider it clearly, his shoulders met with the wall, Seijuro easing him up against the surface with insistent force. Kouki sputtered aloud as he was closed in on, finally realizing where they were headed. True, it was sort of a romantic declaration he’d made, but was it that substantial as to have aroused his lover to this state?

“S-Sei!” he sputtered, “Wait a second!”

His protest only had the effect of him being pressed harder against the wall, Seijuro placing a hand on either side of him to prevent escape. Kouki swallowed, chancing a glance to raise his head, and stared up into the heterochromatic orbs that had morphed from infuriated to passionate in under ten minutes.

“You should know better than to think I’d let you go after you confessed to me so sweetly,” Seijuro crooned, one hand dropping to caress along the side of Kouki’s face. “It’s rare that I get to hear you speak so plainly about your feelings.”

Past that point, no more words echoed between them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kouki wasn’t certain how long his back had been resting against the wall, nor did he acknowledge the slight ache from keeping that position. His fingers continued to steady himself via the fine dress shirt that was just barely hanging on to the former captain’s shoulders, assuring himself he wouldn’t slip. He wasn’t sure how long Seijuro’s teeth and lips had been engrossed with his neck, crafting a canvas of rosy markings, nor did he care. All that mattered were the ecstatic frissons shooting all the way down to his toes only to rocket back up his spine to complete the circuit.

He flinched when Seijuro’s teeth grazed too eagerly, but the ache was swiftly soothed by the heated moistness of his tongue. Kouki couldn’t have been more grateful that the weather was beginning to shift to colder temperatures, as he had no idea how he would explain the mottled condition of his skin. It wasn’t as though he was trying to conceal it, but it was a bit embarrassing if discovered. At this juncture, that thought wasn’t important. When Seijuro reached these heights, he always seemed to entice him along the way, and Kouki knew it was better to surrender to their kindling desires.

Not that he minded.

Just then, a distinct rustling crept into his ears, forcing his gaze down to the increasingly disappearing space between them. Seijuro’s hands were engaged, deftly removing his belt and dropping the zipper to expose the rigid bulge underneath. At the provoking sight, Kouki snapped back to his senses, realizing their location and the difficulties it would cause.

“Sei, let’s move to the couch,” he whined, locking eyes with a passionate stare.

“I’m not going to make it that far, love,” he countered, one hand returning to stroke the side of his jaw, “I don’t think you will either.”

Before he could protest otherwise, Kouki’s speech was halted by the abrupt motion of a hand lifting his leg under the knee, bending it back against his torso. Caught off guard, his mouth merely gaped open, an unbidden flash of anticipation rushing through his veins. Being exposed like this made him a little flustered. But the part of him that was craving more sensation only rejoiced when surprisingly slickened fingers nudged against his entrance, smoothly gliding inside with the aid of lotion. After so many painful situations, they had learned how difficult prep was with just saliva.

His attention shifted when Seijuro’s lips once more brushed against his ear.

“Kouki,” he murmured, “Hold onto me.”

Following through, Kouki encircled his arms around his neck, his fingers clinging to the fine material draping his shoulders. With Seijuro’s assistance, he was elevated from the floor to wrap his legs around the other’s waist. Eyes fluttered closed, his voice a wispy gasp as Seijuro slowly slid inside. Once fully sheathed, he felt his back lean heavily against the wall, his face concealed in Seijuro’s silken mane as he began to rock up into him.

 As much as he relished hearing any pant, gasp, or breathless whisper of his name, Seijuro yearned to witness his lover’s condition. Carefully he eased Kouki away from his shelter within his tresses and to where he could stare into those flushed cheeks, that scrunched expression, and his eyes clamped shut as he allowed himself to be swept up in the fervency.

Given how swift their pace had become, Kouki was surprised by the feather-soft kiss dropped onto his lips. His eyes inched open, staring up into the vehement set above. Their contact was broken when Seijuro bestowed another kiss on him which spiraled into his tongue lapping against the other, provoking the speed they had originated with to an even more rapid one.

Kouki’s increasing moans were abridged by the nimble tongue curving against his own. His fingers tugged at the fabric as Seijuro continued to surge up into him, ruthlessly pressing against his sensitive walls with ultimate force. He couldn’t voice the sensations, muffled by their all- consuming kiss.

And then all he could do was willingly surrender.

* * *

 

The room was shadowy when he opened his eyes, a sliver of light peeking through courtesy of the moon. Kouki shifted only barely before realizing something was inhibiting his movement. Adjusting to the darkness, he realized he was stretched out on the sofa, a cozy blanket encaging his exposed form. When had he laid down there?

There was a vague murmur in his ear, which was swiftly replaced by the sound of soft breathing echoing throughout it. Kouki sighed contently, relishing in the warmth he was encased in and pushed back to snuggle deeper into the loose embrace. At some point, after they had spent the final dregs of their energy, Seijuro must have relocated them to the sofa.

Eyes pinched shut once more, he slowly twisted around as to not disturb the arms wrapped around him. As soon as he’d settled himself into the new position, Kouki unveiled his gaze to a sight that caused his heart to weakly jolt to life, pounding softly at the beauty of it. Seijuro’s resting face was worth treasuring – with his eyes shuttered and mouth posed into a smooth line, he appeared at peace. It was an expression far removed from his usual contemplative looks or the impish smirk he’d lower at him when he felt like teasing his lover.

But Kouki loved it as much as any other.  
  
Filing the vision away for another time, Kouki’s mind turned to the events that had brought them here. Seijuro’s jealousy was easily provoked, and often led to events. For both, this was a first, and a first serious relationship, and to be honest, the former captain’s dominate personality had so rarely been checked growing up. He at times made the wrong choices where others would have known better.

On the other hand, Kouki was certain if one of Seijuro’s friends behaved how Kawahara was, he would have felt the same. Maybe not have pushed Seijuro against the wall… He flushed at the thought…  and engaged in these bold acts. But he too would be insecure, irritated that someone was trying to nudge through their relationship.

Yet, for Seijuro, it was a whole other matter. Having something or someone that he wanted to protect was new to him. He’d never had to worry about such trifles before. Even with those faults, however, he couldn’t bear to think of parting with the other. There was something within Seijuro that matched him so intricately that he knew it’d be a mistake to end it.

He wiggled slightly, elevating himself enough to where he could rest his ear on Seijuro’s chest. From this angle he could no longer feel the warm breath fanning his cheeks, but instead was able to enjoy the luring cadence of his heartbeat.

About to be lulled back into the depths of slumber, another feature captured his clouded attention. Seijuro’s crimson bangs, which had long grown back since his erratic cutting of them years ago, swayed gracefully with each passing breath. He would never admit it to the other, but he preferred him as this. The gleaming tresses hovering at just the right length to conceal his hetero chromatic stare and bestowing on him an aura of mystery.  
  
Chancing a glance at his dozing lover, he then cautiously reached for one of the rich strands. Kouki seized the lock between his fingers, trying not to giggle when the silky texture tickled him. These were the snapshots in time he most cherished. The occasions when he was able to perform gestures that he would never have the courage to do when Seijuro was alert. In these moments, he would bask in the delight of being able to gaze at his lover from this unique perspective.

Unbeknownst to him, Seijuro was already conscious. The second Kouki revolved in his arms, he was hauled from his slumber. Yet, he decided to maintain his masquerade, observing him from under hooded eyelids. He remained inert, thoroughly enlivened by Kouki’s antics, and not wishing to spoil his merriment by revealing he was indeed awake.  
  
The vivid tresses suddenly swung back into their original stance, Kouki freezing on the spot.  
  
“Y-You’re awake, aren’t you…?”  
  
Seijuro laughed amusedly, unveiling his gaze.  
  
“I don’t think you realize how cute you truly can be, Kouki.”  
  
He was exceptionally grateful the moonlight had selected that moment to vanish, the shadows once more aiding his concealment. It was humiliating enough Seijuro had recorded his childish display, but his endearing words managed to enhance the warmth flooding his cheeks. Seijuro always had a way of knowing, knowing everything.

At times that was troublesome.

“Kouki.” His tone was wispy, concerned. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
Hurt? That was rather strange to ask him. The only time Seijuro had ever asked such, was when they first coupled years back, and maybe a few other occasions after.  
  
“Why would I be hurt?” Kouki was puzzled. “We’ve done it many times against the…wall….”  
  
His face couldn’t have been any hotter at the moment.  
  
“I am not just speaking of physically. I meant concerning this whole Kawahara issue,” he sighed, “I don’t want you to think—”

“Sei. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Kouki turned his attention to the cast of Seijuro's face, trying his best to suss what the other might be contemplating. This whole shenanigan bordered on ridiculous, but he felt conflicted over his role in it. Should he have apologized? He'd had no ill intentions in dealing with Kawahara, and had done his best to make that clear to his friend. What the guy did, Kouki had no true control over. Did that still make him at fault somehow?

“You shouldn’t be apologizing, Kouki. I’m the one who needs to learn to control my emotions.” Seijuro graced him with a weak smile, unsure if he could see. “But it isn’t easy for me… and I’m sure you’re aware to as of why.”

Kouki acknowledged that truth with a faint incline of his chin, tucking it down to rest against his chest. Though he was concerned about the future and how they’d deal with this issue, he was willing to put this incident behind them. At the very least, Seijuro knew his shortcomings, and wasn’t adverse in trying to tame them more skillfully.

And maybe his friend would slowly begin to accept this was how it was, how he wanted it to be.  
  
Sleep then nudged at him, disrupting his internal musings. He yawned quietly, being lulled by the harmonic rhythm of Seijuro’s heart. His eyes fluttered closed, a soft smile gracing his lips are he allowed slumber to once more overtake him.

Seijuro pressed a light kiss to his sealed eyes.

“Sleep well, my sweet Kouki.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are continuing from back in 2014, you will need to read this. From here on, is when things get rocky, and it’s for a few reasons. One is Akashi’s father, so let’s make something clear. I don’t like this character at all. I have never liked him in the manga, anime, whatever the hell I can think of, and if you’ve read my other fics, you should be well aware of that. If you are expecting to see him written in a positive light, then leave this fic. Now.
> 
> If you don’t care about any of that, feel free to read on.

Akashi stared blankly at the motionless lump, the tousled chestnut strands peeking out from the top of the blanket. His lover’s mouth was wide open, drool trickling onto the pillows with each passing snore. The first four attempts to rouse him from his slumber had failed, resulting in an additional two. Aside from Kouki rolling onto his back during the fifth try, he remained completely lifeless.

He didn’t want to drag Kouki to the shower and perform the normal routine, as that led to… complications. Complications that would only further delay his leave.

When his classes had concluded for the time being, Seijuro thought the pattern of Kouki’s mornings would modify. After all, the extra study he was currently involved in was something he chose. Something that would be useful toward the goal he was striving for. Of course he would be alert, awake, and eager to begin the day.

Yet, even after the third week into it, Kouki’s morning habits hadn’t changed. Thankfully the class only met on Mondays and Thursdays.

Ironically, this morning, it was Kouki’s phone going off that disrupted his comatose state. He screeched at the blaring, obnoxious tune, tumbling off the bed, and landing on the floor with a loud thud. Tangled within the blankets, he rolled around for a few moments before his journey ended by colliding with one of the dressers.

Groaning, his eyes slid open to peer up at Seijuro staring down at him with concern and amusement reflecting in his mismatched eyes.

He tried not to laugh. “Are you all right?”

Kouki started to answer, or at least it seemed like he was, when he realized his phone was still screaming. In an effort to recover it, he tripped on the blankets, resulting in another crash.

And so began the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t unusual for him to be revising paperwork throughout breakfast. But this was his day off, one of those rare occasions in which he cherished. The last Seijuro wanted to do during his free time was think about work. Yet, there was he, browsing through documents, correcting errors the simpletons continued to make, no matter how many times he had explained the procedure.

The pen came to a rest when another clatter echoed through the complex. Despite how much of a scare his phone may have given him, Kouki apparently hadn’t fully revived. With that rude awakening in mind, he was going to either have to start keeping his phone in another room, or remember to silence it before bed. Then again, that was what had spared another tardy arrival, after all Seijuro’s failed attempts to rouse him.

A few moments later, he was stumbling into the kitchen, hair still disheveled, and his shirt inside out.

“Good morning,” Kouki yawned.

He took one look at his lover’s appearance.

“Come here, Kouki.”

Too exhausted to object, Kouki shuffled toward the chair, nearly tripping on the other one along the way.

Seijuro tugged at his collar. “Let me fix this for you.”

Removing the button down shirt was difficult enough. Kouki’s arms flopped lifeless to the side, giving him no ease of access to slip it off. Somehow, Seijuro was able to free the garment, turning the fabric the right side out. Thankfully he had at least managed to put the shirt underneath on correctly.

“Good thing your phone went off, or I would have resorted to the final attempt.”

Another yawn. “I’m not that bad…”

“No, you’re not bad.” He slid the shirt back into place, adjusting the collar. “You are impossible.”

“I’m surprised you’re not going to brush my hair, as well.”

Seijuro dropped a light kiss on his nose.

“The messy style only makes you cuter. If that were possible.”

Cheeks flushed, Kouki nearly collapsed in one of the chairs. Head resting on the table, his eyes inched closed, the cool surface a relief against his throbbing temples.

 “You should eat something, Kouki.”

His head wobbled. “Uh huh,” he mumbled.

“You’ll be more alert if you do.” Seijuro picked a muffin from the basket, handing it to him. “Here.”

Kouki reached for it, his wobbly fingers nearly sending it back on the table. Eyes fluttering, he stared ahead, his gaze denying it was daylight, and his brain refusing to accept it was awake. Vaguely, he could hear the chair skid against the floor as Seijuro took a seat across, his suave voice nudging at his sluggish senses.

“Since I am off today, I can take you to your class, if you wish.”

That seemed to snap him from his daze, Kouki’s head jerking upward.

“A-ah… actually, Kawahara is coming to get me…”

The abrupt silence was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

“I-I didn’t want to tell him not to come… cause he’s already on his way.”

He could feel that burning gaze on him, knew Seijuro was processing his words. Oddly, that had been the phone call that had awaken Kouki from his slumber, but he wasn’t about to reveal that. Not when he had…

“That’s fine,” Seijuro’s voice pierced his plight, “It is my fault for not telling you ahead of time.”

Kouki nodded. “I just didn’t want to tell him not to come, b-but next time you’re off, tell me! I’d be happy for you to take me.”

Desperate to ward off any impending negativity, Kouki scooted his chair across the floor until he was next to Seijuro. He gripped the former captain’s hand, using the advantage to lean forward and peck his cheek. Hopefully his actions would seal what his words couldn’t, especially when he knew how any talk of Kawahara upset Seijuro.  

Seijuro pulled him closer, sealing their lips together in a light, yet aggressive kiss. It wasn’t much of a surprise that the peck wasn’t enough to satisfy him. But Kouki didn’t mind, as long as it kept everything at bay and he was…  

They were interrupted by the doorbell. Normally Akashi was the one to answer, but this was one he knew he had to. To avoid any impending fuses that didn’t need to be lit. Besides, Kawahara could be a bastard at times, too, taunting Akashi that he had Kouki for the time being.

Kouki rolled his eyes at the memories, and leaned forward to drop another light kiss. Hopefully Akashi understood that he was going to be parting without allowing his friend into the complex.

He then stepped away, grabbing his bag and headed toward the door. Not bothering to greet his friend, he stepped into the hall, yelling out to Seijuro one last time.

 “I’ll see you in a few hours, Sei!”

The door slammed closed, and then he was alone.

He couldn’t blame Kouki for the rushed exit. Not when the idiot who constantly tried to woo his lover was at the door. Where was Fukuda today, anyway? Seijuro supposed he was preoccupied with other tasks, since he was usually the one to take Kouki to his destination. He couldn’t be mad, though. Kawahara was simply driving Kouki to his class. But that didn’t mean he had to like him.

And after all that had happened, continued to happen, Seijuro definitely did not.

It wasn’t fair to Kouki. Seijuro didn’t want to ban him from seeing Kawahara. They had been friends before they got together, before they even met, so who was he to stand in the way? However, he could voice his displeasure when the moron kept trying to woo him. Kawahara was well aware that it irritated him, and yet he continued to taunt him each time Kouki was within his presence without him. Maybe if he ceased those pesky antics, Seijuro wouldn’t have cared. Probably wouldn’t have paid mind if he did flirt with him every now and then.

Okay, yes he would have.

Becoming annoyed, Seijuro discarded his worries. Relaxing for the morning seemed like the better idea. He could go over the rest of the paperwork when he was scheduled to. Today, he was going to enjoy his free time.

Catching up on his reading sounded fine. Until Kouki came back through that door, he could entertain himself with the book he had began a few weeks back. He had never been able to proceed due to constant interruptions.

He poured himself another cup of tea, and made his way into the den. Seating himself in one of the plush chairs, he reached for the stack on the table, freeing the book he had been seeking. Quickly turning the pages, Seijuro frowned at what he uncovered. No bookmark. Now he wasn’t sure if he started it in the first place. But now he had the time, and that was what he was going to do.

About to begin the first chapter, his concentration was shattered by his cell phone. It wasn’t Kouki’s chosen tune, so that meant…

Seijuro exhaled loudly. Why was he surprised that he would be pestered on the rare occasion of a day off? The simpletons at both offices didn’t know anything, and he was beginning to wonder how they even got through their week without any mishaps.

Tossing the book back onto the table, he went to retrieve his phone.

So much for his day off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the fifth disturbance, he was through. He had agreed to come in to deal with a few trivial issues, and it evolved into more than what had been requested. Something that was highly grating on his nerves. His aggravation would only continue to enhance if he didn’t bolt the hell out of there. Before anyone else came in to pester him on more useless matters. Matters they could easily handle themselves.

A quick glance at the clock, and it was decided. When he finished correcting this set of papers, he was leaving. The novel that he had a desire to read this morning was no longer his objective. Now curling under the blankets was the prime mission. Coming in and tolerating pointless issues had completely quashed any enthusiasm.

Thankfully, Kouki had met up with Kuroko and Kagami, and was spending the afternoon with them. Seijuro would have been guilt ridden if Kouki returned home and he wasn’t there. After he had informed him he would be the entire day. At least while he was dealing with this, Kouki wasn’t trapped in the complex and bored out of his mind.

And wasn’t with Kawahara.

Placing the last of the folders into one of the drawers, he slammed it closed. His tolerance had vanished, his focus diminishing. If he had to look at another document, he was going to gorge someone’s eyes out. Preferably the next person who knocked on the door to chuck another insignificance at him.

As he exited the building, a chime came from his pocket. Annoyed it wasn’t Kouki’s set tune, Seijuro decided it wasn’t worth the time, for it could have already been someone from the office. Yet, curiosity won, and he caved.

Only to sigh at what he uncovered.

He could ignore it, could pretend he never received the call. After all, this what was he had been doing each week. Seijuro didn’t need another irritation on his plate. Not after today. And this was the last person he wanted to engage in conversation with.

His father.

* * *

Arriving at the Akashi mansion, Seijuro briskly trekked through the halls, ignoring the numerous gazes upon him. Being here, the place where he evolved into his own person, didn’t feel much like home anymore. No, his home now was the complex he shared with Kouki. Unlike the mansion, that atmosphere was welcoming. Back there, he received the love, the comfort he greatly lacked.

It was merely his birthplace, where memories of his dearest mother flowed.

His journey concluded at the study. Lodged next to the entrance, one of the butlers stood. Alerted by his presence, they bowed before turning to pull the double doors open. His head dipped in acceptance, and Seijuro passed through until the doors shut behind him with a small click.

Shadows encircled him, with only the glow of the fire present as a guide. Yet, he knew this area, more than he wanted to.

In seconds, he located the other presence seated in one of the large chairs. He approached.

Never had Seijuro’s pace been hasty, but he was eager for this visit to be over and done with. His father remained stationed where he was, not perturbed by his presence. The glass he was sipping from slid onto the table before him. He moved slightly, turning his head toward his son in an inaudible greeting.

“Father,” Seijuro greeted.

They lingered in silence, Masaomi then gesturing to the vacant seat next to him.

With a loose exhale, he complied. Seijuro should have been prepared for this to be a lengthy conversation. After all, what needed to be said, if it wasn’t important, could have been discussed when he received the phone call.

“Seijuro,” he finally addressed him, “I am pleased you have come.”

His face was blank. “You were the one who invited me.”

“For a small chat.”

Seijuro scoffed. “If it was a _small chat_ , you could have said what was needed over the phone.” He leaned back in his chair. “So do stop beating around the bush, father, and state why I have really been called here.”

He was granted a cold stare, a warning he easily brushed aside. This wasn’t the first time he was cursed with that glower. In fact, he had been around it most of his life, half the time directed at him. At one point in the past, Seijuro might have been intimidated by it, but those days were long gone, and his confidence was far greater than what it had been back then.

“I want you to reconsider your decision.”

A request that instantly angered him. Seijuro had to curb his tongue to prevent any harsh words from escaping. Ever since he matured into adulthood, his father had been pestering him about taking over the company. Truthfully, he had no issue with it. That was what his father had been shaping him to do since the day he was able to speak. Seijuro knew that was what his destined path had been, had known all along. But there had been one difference in that path. Something that he absolutely refused to alter.

“I refuse,” he affirmed, “I have told you repeatedly I have no issue with taking your place. But you wish for me to settle down with a spouse I have no interest in, and produce a heir.”

Masaomi’s gaze hardened. “That is correct.”

His father knew his resolve was sturdy, that he had no intention of caving into his demands. Throughout his life, Seijuro wanted nothing but to honor his father. He followed his guidance every step of the way, and obtained high grades to appease him. Everything previously had been for him. But life had other plans, plans that he nor his father had ever foreseen, and he would be damned if he changed them now.

“In doing so, I would have to end my relationship with Kouki. Something that will not be happening.”

Since departing from his teen years, sheltering his relationship had become a routine. Every week, his father would call him and discuss the same topic, and each time, he would decline. Of course, he had kept these calls a secret from his lover, as he didn’t want Kouki upset. He wasn’t to blame for this obstacle, and Seijuro surely wasn’t going to risk him becoming tangled in this mayhem.

To his surprise, the persistent calls had then abruptly stopped for months. A chance to regain peace, and maybe for Masaomi to admit defeat. He couldn’t have been more wrong, for when was he going to learn if he never surrendered, then why would his sire? Which brought them to where they were now. Here he was, only directly in front of his father, once again defending his relationship, and warding off any decisions that would alter his life in the worst of ways.

“Therefore, as I have told you multiple times, I will not take your place.”

Carefully, his stance dwindled. He could have sealed their discussion then. Taken his leave, never turned back. After that, Seijuro would reject any more invites, regardless of how furious his father would be, and continue to live in the world he constructed with his lover. That was what he should have done.

But that would have been the coward’s method to wrapping up this _small chat_. Seijuro chided his pigheadedness. What else was there to say now that he had once more declined his father’s request? That was the entire point of this invite, was it not? The most he could do was continue to somehow persuade him. If there was anything left to use.

He studied his father from the distance. Masaomi was too quiet for his liking. Growing up around this powerful and relentless man, Seijuro knew when to flee a discussion, when the right moment was. But his chance had vanished, and he could only blame himself for the missed opportunity.

The glass on the table was then raised, Masaomi taking it to his lips before placing it back down.

“You have been aware all along that this has been the design. I have allowed you to stay with your relationship, but you are almost twenty-one now. You need to think about your future.”

Seijuro was quick to object. “Kouki is my future.”

“He is the blockade that is preventing you from succeeding.”

A _blockade_? No, quite the opposite. Kouki had been the one to grant him what had been absent since his mother’s passing. Never did Seijuro believe he would be able to be captured in that warmth again. Not after she left this world. But he’d found it, and he cherished each day he was encompassed by it.

“I am succeeding.” Despite the flourishing anger, his voice remained steady. “I am perfectly content where I am right now.”

For someone as young as he was, Seijuro had been exceedingly successful, had been promoted to a remarkable level within the company he worked for. One that wasn’t associated with his father. Yes, he still performed tasks for his, but that was only to appease him at the time. The second company he had been at for years was his primary, and that would be the one he would continue to succeed with, to be content for the years to come.

Eventually, he would slowly begin to distance himself from anything of the Akashi corporation, until he was able to take his permanent leave. He didn’t need any assistance, didn’t need the advantage of his family name. Seijuro had made it this far without his father’s notoriety. He had only decided to work for the Akashi corporation out of respect, to continue to honor him. But now that this discussion was taking place, he wasn’t sure he could do that anymore.

If his father wasn’t respecting his choice for the future, to be with Kouki, then why should he continue to respect him? Why should he honor his wishes when he was being forcefully divided from his own?

 “Tell me, father. If Kouki was a woman, would you be eager for our relationship to end?”

Without glimpsing to the side, Seijuro could sense those icy eyes upon him. Yet, he harbored no fear for them, raising his head to repay the frigid stare, and prompted his father for the answer. Though Seijuro was certain he already knew what it was, he wanted it confirmed through his father’s lips.

Granted, there had been a brief period, presented somewhere around his first existence into the world, where his father had nearly enmeshed him into an arranged marriage. But his mother, his darling and wonderful mother who he missed each day, rejected the proposal. She had clearly informed his father that their son had the right to choose, to be with the one he fell in love with later in his future.

Would she have objected now if she knew of his choice?

“No. I would not have.”

Oh, there it was.

“I thought so. That is the truth, then. You are disgusted by my preference.”

Masaomi’s glare reformed.

“I have never been disgusted with anything you have done, Seijuro. You have made me proud since the day you were born.”

What sort of fabrication was this? Seijuro had barely been able to open his eyes, and his father was already promising him to some girl he had never met. He would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for his mother’s interference. Was that what counted as proud nowadays? Although he was certain his father was pleased when he excelled throughout his schooling, he was certain that gratification would vanish when he discovered who his son decided he was going to build a future with.

Someone who wasn’t of a regal family, didn’t have any discernible skills (in everyone’s eyes but his), and certainly wasn’t a female.

“Except for my choice of who I wish to be with.”

Seijuro knew he was stretching his limit, was beyond his boundaries. However, now his devotion was enduring a severe trial. This was his father, yes, but Kouki was his lover, his future. They were two different plights, and he was wedged between them. Something that was completely unnecessary, could have easily been resolved if his father would accept the terms.

“We have an image to uphold. Settling down with Furihata does not follow that image.”

Image. Is that what the current term for discrimination was?

“Then you are disgusted.”

He could vaguely hear the low snarl in the elder Akashi’s throat.

“You are putting words in my mouth, Seijuro.”

Repressing his laughter was becoming taxing, his throat aching from the containment. Words in his mouth? Those filthy words that would never traverse Seijuro’s mind. There was no reason to. His father had plainly demonstrated how he felt about his choice, that he detested his relationship with Kouki. There was absolutely no need to add anything to this discussion that hadn’t already been said one way or another.

“Do you think if I cared about what gender you preferred, that I would not have stepped in the moment I found out you were involved with him?”

A low, bitter chuckle slipped through.

“I am aware of how you are, father. You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to interfere.”

Far too many times he had played this game. If there was some entity that didn’t deliver his father satisfaction, didn’t fulfill his request, he would intrude. Seijuro’s life wasn’t excluded. Any rare error he happened to make, his father would assure he knew that he had done so. Whether it was his schooling, or even something minor in his days of basketball, he would be there to correct him.

Masaomi called it guidance, that he was showing his son the exact path that was needed. Seijuro called it dictation, controlling every aspect of his life.

“Therefore, I will not be changing my decision. I believe I have made that clear.”

Miraculously, his father didn’t counteract. His eyes weren’t narrowed, that usual cold stare lacking emotion. Seijuro wanted to convince himself he had said his concluding piece, that his father would finally accept and understand this was what he wanted. He could take his place, then, and still have Kouki by his side. That, was what he was hoping would happen.

But this was someone who didn’t know the meaning of the word defeat.

“I predicted this would be the outcome. After all, you are as stubborn as I.”

Seijuro sneered. “At least you can say I followed something of that path you want.”

There was another sound, Masaomi raising the glass once more.

“So be it. If that is what you wish, I won’t force you.”

Dark brows elevated. It was Seijuro’s turn to be speechless. That was the end? He had permanently triumphed over this discussion? His father would withdraw and no longer interfere in his relationship with Kouki? Countless unanswered questions swirled through his mind, but it wasn’t wholly connecting how it should have been.

The lingering dread seemed to agree.

Another clink, the glass returning to rest against the small table.

“Let us talk about something you wish to.” His tone was far too calm. “Your lover. He wants to be hired by that new magazine, Trains on Location. Does he not?”

Seijuro’s pulse came to a halt. How did he…

“The one that sends a photographer to take photos of old engines, to visit stations, and allows them to travel throughout the day?”

His breath became restricted, the trapped air pinching his lungs.

“Since it’s a small section of a larger company, that is a very tough position to be chosen for.”

He was truly playing this card, wasn’t he? Seijuro knew his father could be manipulative bastard. His childhood was evidence. But this… to put Kouki…

“However, having a higher connection could improve that.” Masaomi’s cold stare had twisted into something more terrifying. “Or, it could also become a voice to eliminate any possibility of that chance.”

Sweat pricked the back of his neck, Seijuro’s hands beginning to tremble. Though he wasn’t sure if it was from repressed fury or horror. Since this confrontation began, he had been so assured that this had been settled, that his father would recede. But he had been far too confident for his own good that he didn’t notice there was another card to play. And Masaomi had done so.

If he couldn’t pierce his firm resolve, then he was going for the next thing Seijuro held so dear to him. But how, how did he know all of this? He had never spoken of Kouki wanting the job, the one Kouki talked about nonstop, that he was taking classes just to improve his skills to have a better shot at it.

“You do not want to crush the dreams of your lover, now do you, Seijuro?”

Freeing himself from the trance, Seijuro scrambled to regain control.

“… Le… ave Kouki out of this.” He stabilized his voice. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“It has everything to do with him,” Masaomi insisted, “Do not mistake my actions. I have nothing against him. The boy is quite pleasant. He has never bothered me.”

Except for the fact he was dating his heir and creating complications for their “image.”

“That point aside, I am also aware that he is the only way to get through to you.”

Seijuro gripped the edge of the chair, fingernails digging into the plush fabric.

“You said I was not giving you a choice. Now I am.”

This wasn’t what he was implying when he referred to a choice. The one that didn’t involve jeopardizing his relationship with his lover because he wasn’t obeying his stringent father’s request. He wanted the choice to be what he wanted in life, to be with who he wished, and to no longer have to follow this pointless and ridiculous path that his father insisted was the correct one.

Only Seijuro knew what the right path was for him, and this certainly wasn’t it.

“So, you are telling me if I don’t terminate my relationship with Kouki and follow the path, you’ll ruin the one dream he has.”

Eyes narrowing, Seijuro mirrored the frigid stare as best as he could before shifting to counter him. The elder Akashi might have had years of practice, and knew exactly how to maintain his, yet he wouldn’t crumble. Not now, not ever. His father may have gained the upper hand, might have even overcame him momentarily, but Seijuro refused to admit defeat.

“You are putting words in my mouth again, Seijuro.”

His hands slammed against the armrest, the sudden act causing even Masaomi to slightly flinch.

“I don’t need to. That’s exactly what you’re saying!”

Never, in all the years of being under his rule of thumb, had he ever raised his voice to his father. Seijuro had been taught to always respect his parents, and he had followed accordingly, as a good son should of. Until now. Patience was dwindling, his sanity declining quickly and slipping from his grasp. If he had to endure this discussion any longer, he was certain he was going to snap, and the consequences of that rare act were unknown.

Wrestling with himself, Seijuro reeled that portion of his mind into a corner, and granted the role of commander to his disheveled emotions.

“I really despise you.”

The words slipped from his lips before he had a chance to reconsider them. But he paid them no mind. They harbored the truth, so why should he apologize for them?

“I am simply looking out for you.” His father wasn’t fazed. “I have been all along.”

A callous, bitter laugh. “By looking out, you mean ruining everything.”

“You may not realize it now, but this is the correct path for you, Seijuro. It has been since you were born.”

Correct path. No, he wasn’t going to step into this trap. Somehow, he would bypass everything entirely, and then he would be able to keep Kouki safe, to be able to protect their relationship. But then he would witness the sadness in his beautiful eyes when Kouki was rejected for a job that he had placed countless hours into. He then would dwell in guilt, knowing he was the one to crush his dream. Even if it wasn’t technically by his hand, he would be to blame.

Seijuro couldn’t bear that, to see Kouki’s world come crumbing down in his eyes. He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t allow that.

But the results of that would be…

His father had once more began to speak, but he was overshadowed.  Nothing else needed to be said. The point had been made, and he had no argument against it, his defense had vanished entirely. His confidence, everything he had built up for this discussion, was disappearing with each passing breath.

Now he was stuck with the decision. A conundrum in which he didn’t know which path he was going to take. If he surrendered, he’d lose Kouki, but Kouki would be happy. His future would be set, and he’d have everything he wanted. Even if it was without him.

… Without him. The words sounded foreign, colliding with his heart, and delivering a painful impact.

But if that was what it took, would it be so bad then?

Seijuro knew that answer.

It would be unbearable.

* * *

How long he remained in the parking garage was unclear, but Seijuro had no intention on exiting the car anytime soon. Reclined in the plush seat, his eyes slipped closed, temples throbbing from the overwhelming, countless thoughts that violently hammered into his stability. Thoughts that refused to align, and continue to jab at his decaying soul.

Tucking away his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose to rid any soreness. If the situation wasn’t so grave, he would have mocked the fact that his eyesight had always been fine. Yet within the year, he had adapted to wearing glasses, mostly for work and driving. The cause more than likely from being constantly in front of a screen. At first, he thought the decline in his sight might have been from stress, but if that were the cause, after tonight, he would have certainly become blind.

His tiresome controversy with his father had restarted after he snapped from his daze. Or at least the parts he could recall. Seijuro had then raced to obtain control, once more trying to reason with his father. He cared not if his behavior was disrespectful. Again and again, he attempted to negotiate with him, that Kouki didn’t need to be involved in this. If his father wanted, he had no issue in adopting the role of Akashi corporation's overseer or whatever was needed, but he absolutely refused to terminate his relationship. For what seemed like hours, Seijuro spent the time producing something, anything that would get his thickheaded father to understand.

In the end, he knew there was no compromise.

And yet, despite how shameful he would feel, Seijuro wasn’t going to conceal this from his lover. No, he would inform Kouki of the conversation, tell him everything that was discussed. With that out in the open, he would then break away from his father entirely, respect and honor be damned.

But then...

Any shred of hope of Kouki securing the job he fiercely desired would vanish, and the guilt within Seijuro would persist in knowing he had been the cause. Kouki then would tell him everything was fine, but for months he’d have to withstand that expression, gaze into those saddened, wide eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that Kouki could win without any connections. He didn't need his father’s endorsement. But that wasn't what he was concerned over. It was more about what he could say against it that had him on edge.

Seijuro wasn’t sure how, but he was going to conceive the route that allowed him to keep both Kouki by his side, and grant him the dream he was putting such effort into. To cease their relationship of years together, after everything they had undergone, was absurd. Not only would it rip him apart, but he knew Kouki would be deeply wounded. What could he do, though? Seijuro had known long ago what path he wanted… even if it wasn’t the intended one.

He could eliminate every single tie with his father, take Kouki and flee to a far location, but what would that accomplish? The last he wanted was to drag Kouki through hell, in an attempt to avoid the poison from his family seeping into their relationship. How was it people were allowed to choose who they wished to be with, what they wanted for their future, but he couldn't? Why did a name have to bind him?

When he was younger, he had agreed to said terms. After all, it was the historic path he had been endlessly educated about, and not following it would dishonor his parents. Did he know then later on he would crash courses with a cute brunet? Obviously not, but now that occurrence couldn't be changed, and he wouldn't even if permitted.

For more times than he could remember, Seijuro thought about disengaging. He had proven that to himself when he had obtained his first true hiring on his own, not by his father’s connection. To his dismay, down the line, because he still carried the surname, he had been granted a superior position. Even though he had climbed and worked his way to one by himself.

What was it about the image that was so crucial?

Yes, all Akashi men were to follow the path, but would it have been so terrible if he were the one to change that?

He could fill his father’s shoes, easily manage the business, and be together with Kouki. If producing a heir was the only drawback, then they would do so with his blood by means of a surrogate. Wasn't that the same as a woman who couldn’t bear children? Seijuro didn't see any difference between the two, aside from both spouses were male. With that account, in other’s eyes, it would taint the legacy and destroy the intended path, ruining their so called proper image.

And yet Kouki wasn’t from a regal family, and he still would still be a suitable choice if he were female. His father claimed he wasn’t bothered by his preference. Seijuro was beginning to assume otherwise, with him being so eager for the termination of his relationship.

“I can’t… do that to him…” he whispered to himself.

Dragging Kouki through this would be appalling, yet, at the same time, he didn’t wish to hurt him. His world, as well, would be demolished, but Kouki was the main concern. Seijuro was aware when they first began to date that he was on shaky grounds. Back then, he had discarded the matter entirely, for they weren’t anything serious and he certainly had no intention in crafting a future with him. It was simply a date, nothing more. He wasn’t even certain if there would be another. 

A few months down the road, he was taken by surprise.

He chuckled at the memory.

The path that he was destined to follow had crumbled, invaded by a new one he had never seen forthcoming. Even the emperor eye wouldn't have been able to benefit him. Ironically, it had been that, or at least pertain to what caused them to meet. The terrified kid who he told to leave so he could have a meeting with his old teammates. The Seirin player who he fumbled with on the court during the cup, had become the one he wanted to build a future with.

Ironic, indeed.

Sudden vibrations within his jacket interrupted his troubled musings. Having set it on silent during his discussion with his father, it was unknown who the caller could be. Hopefully, though, not the tyrant he had unwillingly tolerated for nearly the whole evening.

A quick glance, and he had instantly accepted.

“Hello, Kouki.”

There was a brief pause. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you if you’re busy, b-but it’s really late, and…”

It was difficult for his lips not to curl.

“I just arrived,” he smoothly lied, “I’ll be up in a little bit.”

Seijuro could easily detect the breath of relief.

“O-okay. See you then.”

“You will.” He discarded his current worry. “And, Kouki?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

There was a loud sputter, Kouki stumbling over his words. And then, the call had abruptly ended, Seijuro left staring at his home screen, which comically was his lover’s face. An expression quite identical to the one he was certain was throughout their short call.

Pocketing his phone, Seijuro rested his head against the steering wheel. He groaned, massaging his temples at the looming headache. Why did this have to be the exact road? Why couldn’t he simply live how he desired, and not have to worry about some ridiculous image that would taint his family if it were to alter?

At that point, he cared not about the image, nor the path he was supposedly destined for. What mattered was that Kouki was spared, that he was able to obtain and triumph over his goals without anything standing in the way.

Even if those hurdles included him.

Regardless of what he selected, Kouki would still be harmed. There was no way out, but he was hoping what he decided would be the lesser of the impact.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kouki’s attention switched from the television to the door the second he entered the complex. He could see the concern reflecting in those bright eyes, the worry sketched into his face. Lingering in the parking garage might have not been the wisest decision of the evening, but Seijuro needed time to gather his thoughts.

His lover was then before him, fingers wringing, and gaze roving until it landed on him.

“I only called cause I was worried since you’re never this late.”

He frowned. “I apologize for that, Kouki. Something came up that I needed to take care of. But don’t ever feel you are annoying me, because you’re not.”

“You could have been in a meeting. I-I’d have interrupted then.”

Seijuro poked his nose, causing him to stumble back slightly.

“And I wouldn’t have cared. I’ve told you time and time again, you are never bothering me. Even if you call just to say hi.”

Lowering his briefcase, he deposited it into its usual place before removing his coat. The shedding of the extra pressure might have relieved his sore muscles, but it didn’t pacify the emotional turmoil furiously churning inside. At the moment, the were no aid for that discomfort, nothing that would be able to free him from it completely.

“Um, Sei?” There was a bit of hesitation. “Are you okay?”

Seijuro froze. Had Kouki noticed how rattled he appeared? Was there something he wasn’t aware of that was exposing the turbulence brewing within him? He never doubted his lover’s ability to read him so efficiently, but Seijuro was hoping Kouki hadn’t caught on. At least not that quickly.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

More hesitation.

“I… I thought maybe you were upset about this morning.”

This morning? He had to search his fogged memory to understand what Kouki was speaking of. Ah, that incident. Of course he would question it.

Seijuro chuckled softly. “No, Kouki. I’m not upset about that.”

“I thought you would be because of what happened. C-cause I know how you feel about-”

His rambling ceased in the form of Seijuro dropping a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m not. Don’t worry so much, Kouki.”

There was already plenty on his shoulders, more than what his limit could tolerate. He didn’t need his jealously resurfacing. The highly irritating friend who was infatuated with him, wouldn’t accept that they were together, and continued to try to persuade Kouki. Thanks to the events that had occurred in the afternoon, Seijuro harbored enough present worries. Becoming vexed over this would only ignite another fuse.

Kouki wasn’t convinced. “But you don’t look right. You look really tired.”

“I am,” he confessed, “I had to go to the office this morning because of an issue there.”

While that might have not been the entire truth, he wasn’t exactly lying. To an extent.

“… Your father’s?”

Seijuro repressed the impulse to ditch the topic.

“Not his company. The other one.”

Kouki sighed. “… You shouldn’t be doing both of them, Sei. It’s making you really stressed.”

Generally, working two jobs, along with attending classes on the side would be overwhelming for someone. He wasn’t someone, though. Besides, he didn’t plan on staying with his father’s for long, not after their discussion. His professions were the least of his woes, if they were any. There was something that was rather more vital, something that was currently delving a massive hole into his soul.

“You let me worry about that.”

His lover didn’t budge, arms crossed, lips protruded childishly.

“Kouki,” he warned playfully.

Slowly he uncrossed his arms, allowing them to droop at his sides, but the pout still lingered.

“Fine,” he huffed, “As long as you’re okay.”

Clearly, he was below that mark, far from it. He thought he had concealed it adequately, but Kouki had immediately noticed his ruined features. The excuse he was spent from visiting the office had been the perfect cover. It wasn’t an absolute, boldfaced lie, though. He was exhausted, and while dropping by the office to handle senseless problems caused by the staff was irritating, that wasn’t the reason for his depleted state.

However, this cover was only temporarily. There was no point in strengthening it or remodeling his defense. Seijuro had come to a decision before he stepped into the complex which option was the more preferable one. He wasn’t keen on it, nor the other. Wasn’t keen on anything that he was being weighed down with.

Despite his skepticism, this was what he had chosen. With that settled, he knew he needed to plan diligently, would have to take extreme caution to implement it.

 “Actually, Kouki… there is something I need to talk to you about.”

He jolted suddenly, the odd behavior puzzling him. Seijuro didn’t think his announcement would have caused that kind of a reaction.

 “Before you do, I have to show you something!” he babbled excitedly, “We learned something new today, and my instructor said I really have the hang of it!”

Kouki then ran past him, eager to fetch his bag.

“I’m hoping it will…” His voice echoed from their bedroom “… well, you know…”

Seijuro’s eyes fluttered closed remorsefully. Inhaling softly, and then struggling to release the staggering breath, he plastered on one of the fakest smiles he could muster before Kouki returned.

In Kouki’s hand, was a sheet of paper, outlining the various topics they had learned in his class. The instructor’s neat fine print was scribbled in each panel, commenting on his wonderful performance. Seijuro had never seen his lover glow with such pride, happily displaying his accomplishments to him. He had placed hours of labor into this, probably the hardest Seijuro had ever seen since their basketball days.

“This really means a lot to you. Does it not, Kouki?”

He nodded. “I mean… it’s probably silly cause there’s something else out there… b-but I really like this one, so I hope-”

Any rambling ceased at a hand stroking his face. Seijuro ran his thumb against his cheek, repeating the comforting gesture, causing Kouki’s complexion to pinken. His fingers then slid downward, fingers cupping his chin, and thumb now brushing against his jaw line.

“You’ll get it, Kouki. I am sure of it.”

Before his emotions could unwind and expose him altogether, Seijuro divided their closeness. He had slowly began to gather his wavering sanity and head toward their room, when Kouki’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh! Sei, I’m sorry. Wasn’t there something you had to tell me? I didn’t mean to get in the way. I was just excited to show you.”

Paused at the doorway, Seijuro clutched at the wooden panels, his nails throbbing from how deep they were digging into them.

“It’s nothing important.” He ignored the painful jab in his chest. “I am glad this is working out for you.”

No. He wasn’t going to ruin his dream with the poison of his legacy. To see that shine vanish, the gleaming stars in his eyes burn out… would be a crime.

“I-I hope it does.”

Another pause.

“It will, Kouki. It will.”

There were several fragments of knowledge he had yet to master, unanswered questions that continued to taunt him. Despite his level of intelligence, Seijuro remained doubtful about a lot, but there was one matter he was certain one. His father, though Seijuro had zoned out toward the end of their discussion, had vowed Kouki would be employed for that specific company when he applied. That he was positive of, that was something he knew he didn’t have to fabricate. At least he could hold onto that.

Because there wasn’t much else he could.

But in accepting his father’s terms, it would be the death of their relationship. He couldn’t do that either, he couldn’t crush this beautiful bond they had so carefully built throughout the years, the one that continued to flourish each day. One of them, however, would have to be the choice, and those two choices brought consequences.  

Consequences Seijuro knew would devastate them both.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peaceful nights were what Seijuro looked forward to following a taxing day. He would walk through the door, Kouki would waiting for him, and then after he had settled into his lounge clothes, they would unwind beneath the quilt in the den. There Kouki would gab about his morning and what he learned during his classes, his lips protruding as he spoke of some little annoyances. When he was through, Seijuro would do the same, expressing the frustrations he too had no choice but to tolerate.

That was the usual routine of their evening, the one that occurred each time he stepped into the complex. But not this one.

His mind was a vortex, Seijuro’s thoughts in shambles and beyond his control. Gone was the laughter as Kouki whined about school, or how he himself ranted about the underlings he had to endure in both places. Both replaced by eerie silence. There were no tiny kisses or warm embraces as they comforted each other. No, this evening was different. And he was more than aware of the reason.

It wasn’t until Kouki was standing before him that he realized he was submersed in a trance.

“Sei…” The nervous timbre was patent. “… are you sure you’re okay? You really seem out of it.”

Why did Kouki have to be so gifted at sensing his troubles? His constant, worried inquiring was only enhancing the guilt. It stirred his emotions, prompting him to shove the decision further and further into oblivion. A place where he could be himself and love Kouki without any roadblocks.

Someone as innocent as Kouki… who cared immensely for others, didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve to be tied up in something so corrupt.

“I’m fine, Kouki.” He patted the spot next to him. “I’m simply exhausted from the nonsense of today.”

Exhausted was an understatement. The evening with his father had ripped everything from him, separating his strength, demolishing his remaining sanity and any will to continue to combat.

He had returned home with the intention of briefing Kouki about their conversation. But once he saw what this meant to him, Seijuro receded. The decision pressed a weight to him that he had never experience before. There was no other course to take, nowhere to turn, and no one to seek advice from other than himself.

“You should take off tomorrow… for real. Don’t let anyone call you in. You work two jobs and take classes on the side. You do too much… and when I get…” Kouki retracted. “I-I mean, if I get it, I’ll be able to help you so you won’t be so tired.”

Seijuro reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers, and squeezing gently.

“You are too good for this world, Kouki.” He pressed his lips to his palm. “Too good for me.”

Kouki flushed. “I-I don’t think that at all. I only want to help you.”

“You are.” Being with him after everything they endured was more than he could ask for. And yet… “I don’t want you to worry about anything except your studies.”

“But I’m worried about you, and-”

Having tugged him forward, Seijuro bestowed a light kiss, suspending any more of his prattle.

“Please don’t.”

Kouki pouted. “I can be stubborn, too, you know.”

“I know you can. That is why I’m saying not to.”

Fearful of his emotions discharging, Seijuro leaned forward to unite their mouths. The plumpness of Kouki’s lips became his prime focus, his ears closing to any more protests. He didn’t want to listen how Kouki wanted to support him, how he was once more putting others in front of his needs. Not when Seijuro knew their downfall was impendent.

Kouki mumbled faintly, but didn’t object to the sudden aggression, wrapping his arms around Seijuro’s neck to return the passionate gesture. His lips parted, allowing his lover’s tongue to coast through and mingle with his. Head bent, he could feel Seijuro’s fingers curling around his jaw, stroking delightful trails along his skin, awakening the slumbering fires deep within.

Somehow, Kouki obtained the ropes, clutching at Seijuro’s shoulders, and dividing their connection.

“I…I thought you were tired,” he panted.

Seijuro nipped at his bottom lip, as though playfully punishing him for the disruption.

“I am.”

He dropped another kiss.

“Y-you don’t seem like it.”

“I suppose you fuel my energy,” he chuckled before advancing once again.

Kouki’s back then met the cushions, his lover crawling on top of him and securing their position. Eager lips sought his, their sultry caressing resuming. Hands treading through the crimson mane, he clutched at the silken stands, using the leverage to mold their mouths more profoundly.

But before he could invite the other roving tongue in, Seijuro was the one to part from their embrace. Puzzled, Kouki watched as he laid another kiss on the tip of his nose, dropping against his shoulder, and nestling in the crook of his neck.  

Struggling to regain his breath, Kouki tugged the silken stands gently.

“A… Are you sure you’re okay?”

Seijuro hummed in response.

“It’s just… a-after kissing me like that… you usually...”

Eyes flickering in recognition, Seijuro retreated from his sanctuary. Composing himself, he rose to peer down at the reddened race of Kouki, his lover still having difficulties in forming the correct wordage.

 “Y-You know…”

The mirth flashed within those mismatched depths.

“Are you upset that I didn’t?”

He shook his head. “N-no… it’s actually really nice.”

Whereas he too did savor their coupling, Seijuro was pleased all the same. He slowly rose, settling behind Kouki until he had positioned them on their sides. Drawing him into his arms, Seijuro nuzzled the chestnut locks, the nostalgic scent captivating his senses. Bestowing another kiss, he slid down Kouki’s sides, seeking his hand until he had interlaced their fingers.

“Then this is how we will stay.”

Kouki squirmed somewhat, but it was only to curl deeper into his chest. He could sense the tension melting, his lover’s curiosity about his inattentive state finally dissipating. Content, Seijuro eyes fluttered closed, his whole being yearning to stay locked within this moment. A place where Kouki was, would forever be, where they were together without any worries or cares.

Even if he knew that was currently the opposite.

Discarding those thoughts, he nestled into Kouki’s warmth, allowing it to transport him to the place he adored most. His head was pounding, his body screaming for him to stop struggling and obtain the proper rest. After the chaos he had sustained from the events of the day, that was probably exactly what he needed.

If being unconscious was where happiness endlessly existed, he had no qualms in submitting to it.

About to succumb to slumber’s lull, he then noticed how quiet it had become. Moving ever so carefully, he listened to the faint breathing, felt the slow rhythm of Kouki’s back rise and fall against his chest. Somewhere within those reserved moments, Kouki had beat him to the punch and dozed off before he could.

“I thought I was the one who was tired,” he chuckled.

Flexing his hand, Seijuro gently squeezed their laced fingers, awaiting a response. Other than the faint sounds emerging from his parted lips, Kouki remained absolutely motionless, granting him the opportunity to fulfill what he knew needed to be done.

 “Kouki,” he called softly.

There was no answer, nor the slightest bit of a shuffle. Exactly what he needed.

“I love you.” He was right to the point; why shouldn’t he have been? “I know how flustered you become when you try to repeat it, but it brings me great joy to know you return it. I don’t think you realize how much, and I…”

His breath shuddered.

“… All I want to do is protect you. Even if I’m the one to blame for that conflict. I will do everything I can to assure that happens. Even if…”

Seijuro bit his lip, willing his pulse to settle.

“If I could… I would give you the world… and that’s what I’m going to do. Grant you the dream you want more than anything. ”

Wetness pricked his eyes, and he could sense his sanity beginning to unravel. No, he had to do this, for who knew when the next opportunity would arise. Quickly discarding his emotions, he continued to praise his dozing lover, wanting him to know that he was everything to him. He then laid another kiss on his shoulder before pulling away and back to where he was settled.

“Even if I’m not a part of it.”

 


End file.
